Beneath Darkened Skies
by Dazac
Summary: Here's what I hope you'll find to be a fresh take on the stories of Skyrim. Follow Delar on a somewhat darker tale as he finds himself caught up in affairs he'd rather avoid, and deals with his own personal demons while trying to keep his head above the proverbial water. Adventure, drama, love, death, secrets and more await! Welcome to Skyrim! Hope you brought some armor...
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to Beneath Darkened Skies! For those who are following my other stories, I've got some bad news. I'm putting them on hiatus for the time being, and will likely be rewriting them completely. I feel I do my best writing from the third person perspective, so, there's that.

If you don't want to know what I've got planned for this, go ahead and just skip straight to the story, otherwise, keep reading. I will be dealing with the main story(Alduin), the Dawnguard, and Dragonborn DLC's for starters. Those three aren't going to be _too_ different, however there will be some liberties taken in each of those storylines in order to make things a bit fresher, as well as make more sense, in my opinion.

As for the other big storylines and smaller quests, the war, Companions, guilds, towns, etc. I will be taking a great many liberties with those. Leaving some things out, changing some things, adding some entirely new things, etc.

Now, to get some explanations out of the way now...

ALL CAPS = yelling

**BOLD** = Using the power of the Voice

_Italics_ = thoughts when outside quotes. Stressing words when in quotes.

I'm sure I'm forgetting more of what I wanted to say, but meh... I would like to finally, humbly request that you review when you read, even if it's just to say a few words. Good or bad, getting feedback is _great_ motivation to keep writing and improving. So, without further ado... Enjoy.

* * *

The squeaking and grinding of wood on metal was the first thing that Delar sensed as he woke. The next was the jostling of his seat and the uncomfortable itch on his wrists. Wrists, that he realized, were bound with rough rope. The clomping of horses hooves drew his attention as a cold wind rushed past, blowing his bangs back and forth at the top of his field of view. The rustling of the trees sounded ominous and unnatural. The sounds of wildlife were absent from the surrounding forest. The skies were overcast, and there was a slight drizzle.

Delar raised his head and looked around to find he was not alone as he rode in the wagon. A blonde man sitting across from him spoke to him, but he only feigned paying attention as he thought back to how he'd ended up in this situation. He had just been crossing the border into Skyrim and was caught in an ambush. He smirked as he thought about his reason for being in Skyrim. He couldn't help but be amused by the irony of his situation.

Glancing to his right he saw two more men, one was thin and stated his name as 'Lokir.' The other was a large man who, in addition to the rope binding his wrists, also had a gag in his mouth to keep him from speaking.

"Watch your mouth!" the blonde man, Raloff shouted at Lokir, "You're talking to Jarl Ulfric, the true High King of Skyrim!"

"Shut up back there," the imperial soldier steering the cart said over his shoulder.

Delar closed his eyes and waited, listening intently to the sounds of the world around him. Shutting out the constant talking that Raloff was doing, likely to occupy his mind with more pleasant thoughts, Delar listened to the sound of footsteps. The jingle of chain mail. The clomp of the horses hooves. The howl of the wind as it gusted by. And the din of water hitting everything as the drizzle picked up into a steady rain.

"What's going on?! Why are we stopping?!" Lokir asked in a panic.

Raloff replied as he stood, "Why do you think? End of the line."

"No, wait," Lokir begged the Imperial soldiers, "You can't do this! I'm not one of them!"

Delar sighed and shut out the mans yelling as he tilted his head back, letting the rain hit his face and wash away the grime. He hardly even paid attention as the others were called, or when Lokir tried to run. It wasn't until a woman's shout drowned out the constant din of the rain that he looked back down. The Imperial woman was snarling at him, "Step forward prisoner!"

Delar obliged and turned his attention to an Imperial soldier standing next to the woman, holding a list and trying to shield it from the ran. "You, what's your name?" the soldier asked.

With a sigh he replied, "Delar." He found his own voice seemed somewhat hollow and raspy, realizing that he hadn't had anything to drink for quite some time now.

The soldier looked at the list he was holding, and then to the woman, "Captain, he's not on the list... what should we do?"

"He goes to the block with the others," she ordered with a cruel smirk before turning on her heel and moving away.

The soldier looked to Delar in dismay, "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland."

"Skyrim isn't my homeland," Delar replied as he turned away and went to stand with the others, sensing the rain starting to come down even harder as the sky darkened. He stood silently, his throat feeling dry despite the fact that he was sucking the rain water off his lips as quickly as he could. He watched the priestess begin to perform their last rites until a distant, unique howl interrupted.

"What was that?" the soldier , Hadvar, asked.

"It's nothing," the Imperial commander, Tullius said, "Continue."

The priestess started again, only to be interrupted by the same howl, but much louder than before. "There it is again!" a soldier said.

Tullius was becoming agitated and barked at the soldier, "It's just thunder! Now, continue."

Delar cast his gaze up beyond the proceedings as he looked at the roiling clouds as small flashes of light illuminated them from within, casting eerie shadows in all manner of shapes. He continued watching the sky as the first prisoner was led to the chopping block. His ears strained, trying to hear over the sound of the rain falling all around him, soaking him through and chilling him to the bone.

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

A twisted grin came across his features as he heard the sound steadily getting louder until the rest of those around him took notice. He saw the shape of something move across the sky, darker than the void between the stars, growing larger and larger. When the massive wings beat, the very air shook with the reverberation of it.

Someone else finally saw the darker than dark shape and shouted, "What in Oblivion is that?!"

Delar looked on, wide eyed as the creature, shrouded in darkness, alighted upon the tower sitting in the middle of the town they were in. A brilliant flash of lightning and deafening roar of thunder charged the air and shook the ground as the creature was illuminated in an instant. Pitch black scales. Two, furiously burning orbs of red. Large, razor sharp fangs, glimmering wickedly in the flash of light. Enormous claws, breaking stone like it was glass.

Delar looked straight at the beast, his eyes wide, his face twisted into a frightening grin. The World Eater was here... at long last. Delar took a calming breath and then spoke as though he wasn't staring into the jaws of death, but was meeting someone for the first time...

"Hello, Alduin."

(Cue Dovahkin song and epic title screen!)

**Beneath Darkened Skies**

Alduin's mouth opened wide and with a roar, flames shot out of his throat, immediately engulfing the headsman as everyone else scrambled away in fear. Delar could feel the heat of the flame from where he stood and started stepping back. He froze when Alduin's head snapped to him.

"**FUS!**"

Delar let out a yell, in shock, as he was suddenly thrown backwards several meters, hitting the ground hard and coming to a stop in a large puddle. Before he could get his bearings he felt hands grab him, hauling him to his feet and quickly pushing him towards another tower as the World Eater took to the skies once more.

"You alright?"

Delar looked up to find Raloff standing over him, just inside the tower.

"I'm fine," Delar said as he rolled over and pushed himself up from where he'd fallen once entering the tower. He brought a hand to the back of his head and rubbed it slightly, feeling it slick with something wet. Quickly bringing his hand into his field of view, he sighed in relief. It was just water. He snorted and mentally chided himself for forgetting the storm raging outside.

"Come on, we ave to hurry!" Raloff said, starting up the stairs.

Delar followed on his heels as another crashing sound echoed from outside. He hoped it was just thunder, but knew better than to hope such the moment Alduin's head came crashing through the wall of the tower, filling the tower with a blast of fire before taking off once more. Coughing from the smoke and dust, Delar rushed forward.

"Dammit! The stairway's blocked!" Raloff yelled, "We'll have to go down and around, come on!"

Delar just watched Raloff head down the stairs before turning to look out of the hole Alduin had made. It was chaos. Rock, mortar and wood were strewn everywhere. Buildings were on fire which only seemed to spread despite the downpour. There was a loud flash-crack of lightning and thunder that brought him out of his pause. Making up his mind, Delar stepped toward the hole and jumped out, falling into the adjacent building and landing shoulder first, his body tucked in so that he could roll. Once he came to a stop and got up, he quickly began moving again, jumping down to the ground through a hole in the floor, and running out of the burning house.

Alduin swept by overhead as Delar started running towards three figures he saw running for cover. He recognized one of the men as the Imperial soldier, Hadvar. There was another soldier as well as a young boy who was wailing, with tears streaming down his face. Hadvar spotted him and quickly motioned him to get into cover just as Alduin landed nearby to unleash another attack.

"Still alive, prisoner? Stick close if you want to keep it that way," Hadvar said.

Even as he spoke Delar held his hands out toward the man and shouted over the din of the storm and attack, "Cut these damn binds so I can be of some use!"

Hadvar paused for a moment before deciding he didn't have time to think about it and grabbed the rope, quickly cutting through it as Alduin left. "Come on!" Hadvar said, "We need to get to the keep!" They ran down the road, avoiding the falling rubble as the made it to the keep walls where they could make out several more people heading towards it. Being out in front, Hadvar was the first to recognize them as Stormcloaks. "Raloff! You damn traitor!"

"Back off, Hadvar!" Raloff hollered back, "Y-"

"NOT NOW YOU FOOLS!" Delar shouted and grabbed them both by the shoulders, shoving them towards the keep.

Once they made it into the keep and the door was slammed shut behind the last of them, they all stopped to catch their breath. Delar looked around, there was a mix of Imperials, Stormcloaks, and civilians. Delar groaned, not bothering to hide his frustration as what he knew would be inevitable, started immediately.

"Damn you, Imperials! This is your fault!"

"Our fault?! This is your doing you damn-"

Delar growled and then hollered, "ENOUGH!" The room went silent with the exception of the sobbing boy. Delar glared at all of them. "You really think that _now _of all times, is the time to fight? If you hadn't noticed, there's a fucking dragon destroying the town! Now is not the time for your political bullshit! We all need to suck it up, set aside our damn red flags and blue flags, and focusing on getting out of here alive. After that, the lot of you can go at each others throats all you want!"

"He's right," Raloff said, "We need to worry about our survival right now. We can worry about the war once we're all safe."

"Aye," Hadvar added, "Come on, there should be a way out down below."

Delar watched as all the soldiers looked at each other and grudgingly accepted that they would have to avoid fighting amongst themselves for the time being. He then turned and quickly followed after Hadvar as the man led the way. They found one hallway blocked by a collapsed portion of the keep and so had to go around, moving quickly until they reached a stairwell.

"You hear that?" Hadvar asked as he came to a stop at the top.

Delar listened and could make out the sounds of a struggle. "Horker shit!" he muttered, "Keep them up here." Before he could get a reply, Delar was rapidly descending the stairs and into what he realized was a torture room. Several Imperials and Stormcloaks were laying on the ground, dead. And in the corner behind a barred door, were two Imperials closing on a lone Stormcloak.

"That's enough!" he shouted as he ran forward, gaining the attention of all three. The Stormcloak took advantage of the distraction and thrusted her sword into the gut of one of the Imperials. The other Imperial saw this and quickly cut down the Stormcloak before rounding on Delar, sword at the ready. Delar immediately recognized the woman as the Imperial Captain that had ordered he be sent to the block despite not being on their list.

She recognized him as well, but before she could reply she saw movement behind Delar and watched as a ragtag collection of individuals, both allies and enemies alike came into the room. "What is the meaning of this?!" she shouted, "Hadvar! Why are you with these prisoners!"

"We're getting out of here," Delar said before Hadvar could reply. The Captain turned her attention back to him and he continued, "We can worry about who's who once we're safely away from here. In the meantime there are civilians here that need to be protected."

"You can't be serious!" Raloff hollered, "That bitch ordered that you be executed even though they had no reason to! You can't really be inviting her along!"

"Now is not the time for your petty grudges!" Delar shouted, looking over his shoulder, "Do NOT make me say it again!"

"You won't leave here," the Captain snarled.

Delar turned back to see her swinging her sword towards him. He quickly jumped back, out of her reach and then as she stabbed forward, he side stepped, grabbed her arm and wrenched the sword from her hand before spinning her. She tumbled and fell back against the counter, regaining her sense just in time to see Delar stabbing down at her with her own sword.

The blade sunk into the wood with a sharp crack. The Captain looked up at Delar with wide eyes, her own blade embedded in the counter next to her head. Delar stood up, letting go of the handle and glared down at her. "You want to live to see tomorrow, you're welcome to come with us," Delar stated, "But, if you're really that eager to die, there's a dragon right outside who I'm sure would be happy to oblige."

Without another he turned and stalked back toward the others. "Let's go," he said, motioning for everyone to continue through the keep.

Together the group moved down another flight of stairs into a cavern that had wooden walkways spanning over streams, and another door way that led into an actual cave system. The group moved on silently, no one seemingly brave enough to speak up. Even the boy had stopped his crying. The only sounds that could be heard were the drops of water falling from above, the small rush of the underground streams, and the splashing and thudding of a multitude of feet as they continued on their way.

"You feel that?" Hadvar asked.

"Wind," Delar replied with a nod, "We're close to getting out of here."

As they rounded a sharp turn in the tunnel they found themselves at the mouth of a cave. Outside the storm continued to rage. The entire group dropped into a crouch as the roar of Alduin reverberated in the air just after a flash of lightning and crack of thunder. Delar spotted the dragon moving off into the storm, his roars fading as he rapidly gained distance from where they were.

"Now what do we do?" One of the civilians asked in a whisper.

"We could go to Riverwood," Hadvar offered, "It's close by, and my uncle runs a smithy there."

Raloff nodded his agreement, "Aye, and my aunt runs the mill. They're a friendly bunch there. I'm sure Delphine wouldn't mind giving us a place to rest for a day or so, at the inn."

"How far are we talking?" Delar asked.

"A few miles, nothing more," Hadvar said.

Delar frowned as he looked outside, "A few miles in this weather could be very dangerous."

"Well what other choice have we got?" Hadvar asked, "We can't just sit here and wait for the storm to pass. Too many of us are injured, and we're all exhausted."

"I know some healing magic," Delar said, "I'll see to the most serious wounds, then we can all rest for a bit and wait for the storm to let up."

"I don't like that idea," an Imperial spoke up, "I'm not about to just sit here, passing the time with these traitors!"

"Watch your tongue, Imperial, or-"

"Don't make me repeat myself!" Delar interjected. "We are, _all_ of us, getting to safety. We'll recover and then go our separate ways once we're able to. After that, if you want to go and kill each other then that's your business, but I've seen enough pointless bloodshed for the time being."

Delar looked to each individual in the group, meeting their eyes so that they could see that it wasn't something that was up for debate. His eyes finally fell on the last person in the back and he met the gaze of the Imperial Captain. She looked away, frowning, but giving a subtle nod of her head.

"Alright," Delar said as a golden glowing orb formed in his palm, "Whose wounds are the worst?"


	2. Chapter 2

After several hours, the storm calmed enough that they decided they could safely make it to Riverwood, despite the rain. They tried to stay under the shelter of the trees as they went, but were inevitably soaked through. Delar glanced back to see black smoke rising in the air beyond the trees and mountain terrain. When they rounded a bend in the road, Riverwood came into sight. Delar was surprised, though pleasantly so, to see a small group standing beneath the gateway to the town.

There was a shout of jubilation from them as they ran out to meet the tired survivors and gently but quickly pushed them along through the town until they reached the Sleeping Giant Inn, and were ushered inside. Dry blankets were immediately draped over shoulders, warm cups were passed out, and people we sat down on the benches or the floor to rest. Delar sat down with a heavy sigh and looked on as Hadvar's uncle, Alvor, gave the man hug before grabbing his shoulder and lightly shaking him as he spoke with a grin.

The same sort of interaction was happening all throughout the Inn. As the woman who appeared to run the Inn passed by, Delar stopped her. "Excuse me. Not that I'm ungrateful, but how did you know we were coming?"

The woman, Delphine smiled somewhat timidly as she answered, "Honestly, we didn't. Ulfric Stormcloak passed through half a day ago, stopping only long enough for a bowl of soup before he left. He said a dragon attacked Helgen and that there weren't any survivors besides him and the two soldiers with him.

We decided we weren't ready to give up hope that there would be more, so we went to wait. We were standing out there for hours and had just been talking about going back to our homes when 'lo and behold, you all came shuffling along the road looking like...well..."

Delar nodded and motioned for her that he didn't need any more information, "Thank you."

Delphine nodded and gave a bright smile, "Of course! You just rest now, and then we'll get all this sorted out later when things calm down a bit."

Things calmed down rather quickly as all the survivors began falling asleep where they sat, finally able to relax after the long day of stress they'd had. When Delar finally started to wake it was early the next morning, just before sunrise, and there was a chill in the air and a light drizzle outside, courtesy of the overcast skies. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Delar took a quick stock of his surroundings to see nearly all the survivors still sitting silently, sleeping.

After standing and stretching to relieve some of the ache from sleeping against a wall, Delar made his way outside. He could hear the sounds of birds chirping and it was almost enough to make one think that there hadn't been a massacre the day before. It was peaceful, quiet...

CLANG

Mostly quiet. Delar's gaze focused on the building just across from the inn. It was relatively large compared to the out homes he'd spotted in town the day before, but he suspected, it probably had to do with the forge and workshop set up next to the house. He saw a man there with his attention focused on whatever he was hammering away at on an anvil. Having nothing else to do, Delar quickly made his way across the street.

As he stepped onto the raised floor the man turned around at hearing the footsteps. "Ah! You're awake. I was expecting you to be out cold for a while longer yet. Hadvar says you were a big help in getting so many out of Helgen, alive. I'm Alvor, by the way."

Delar shook the mans hand and returned his smile, "Delar. And I wasn't much of a help. There's not really anything that can be done against a dragon."

Alvor chuckled with a rumbling laughter, "No need to be modest! Hadvar and Raloff had quite a bit to say about you last night. They both said you had a very commanding presence in the midst of all that chaos."

"Heh," Delar huffed as he shook his head, "More like the loudest voice, really."

Alvor let out another deep laugh before his face took on a more serious tone. "Horrible thing, that attack. I had good friends in Helgen," Alvor said.

"I'm sorry," Delar replied sympathetically.

Alvor shook his head, "Don't be. You did as much as you could, which is quite a bit more than most would have the guts to do against a dragon, I'd wager. No, their souls rest in Sovngarde now."

Delar just nodded silently and after a long silence between the two Alvor spoke again, "So, what're you going to do now?"

"Probably head for Whiterun," Delar explained, "That's where I was headed when I got caught in that ambush near the border."

"Hmm, nasty bit o' business, that. Hadvar and Raloff grew up together, it's saddening to see them so angry at each other now. But, I think they've both forgotten about such things for the time being. A group of us stayed up late talking about what to do. That woman, the Imperial Captain, Linyth I think her name was... she and Hadvar plan on talking the rest of their own to Solitude. Raloff and the other Stormcloak's are going to make for Windhelm.

I was actually quite surprised that they'd made it a point to let each other know that they wouldn't give each other trouble, despite the ongoing conflict."

"There are more important things to worry about," Delar said.

Alvor nodded, "That, there are."

"What about the others?" Delar asked.

"They'll be welcomed to stay here as long as they need to. No one in this town will turn away those in need. Especially after something so traumatic. Hamming, the poor boy, couldn't stop screaming and crying in his sleep." Alvor looked at Delar in consideration, "You say you're heading to Whiterun?"

Delar nodded, "That's the plan."

Alvor shifted his weight to face the man straight on, "I hate to ask anything of you after what you've already done, but if there really is a dragon about these parts, Riverwood is very ill equipped to deal with such a thing. I don't suppose I could ask you to speak to Jarl Balgruff when you get there and ask him to send some soldiers to protect the town?"

Delar smiled slowly as Alvor spoke, nodding his head by the end of the mans request, "I think I can manage that."

Alvor smiled brightly and clapped Delar on the shoulder, "Thank you, friend!" Alvor gave a quick look at the man before chuckling, "Tell you what. I've got some spare clothing and gear I don't need, and I'm sure you must want to get out of those rags you're wearing. You can help yourself to whatever you need before you head off!"

Delar looked down at his attire to find that with all the burns, rips, and tears, he might as well be wearing rags. He looked up at Alvor somewhat sheepishly, "I'd appreciate that."

Alvor laughed, clapping him on the shoulder again and then leading him inside.

It took only a short time for Delar to get what he needed. Beyond a change of clothes, Alvor also gave him some pieces of leather armor as well as two steel knives. After Delar managed to get the man to stop offering more, he bid him farewell and quickly started toward Whiterun. He wasn't going to stay to bid farewell to those he'd come to the town with. He didn't know them, and if he was honest with himself, didn't like most of them.

The road through the countryside brought him to the treeline and he got his first look at the city of Whiterun. It wasn't huge, by any means, but he would guess that there must be, at the very least fifty residents. He supposed it was more of a very large town, opposed to a city. As he continued down the road, he walked by what appeared to be a brewer, as well as a farm. It wasn't until he rounded the building that he saw the fight occurring at the far end of the field.

Five people, all facing off against a lone giant, and it appeared, both sides were evenly matched. At least until two of the men, wearing the same kind of armor, and looking very similar to one another, charged toward the giant together. Delar couldn't help mentally chastising them, not so much for the manner of attack, but the fact that they were both screaming at the top of their lungs as they charged. So, he wasn't surprised when the giant suddenly turned, swinging its club and knocking them both aside. Only three remained standing now, two people in leather armor, wielding swords, and a woman wearing an odd set of armor that didn't seem at all useful for protection.

Deciding he wasn't going to just watch people die, he started sprinting toward the battle, drawing one of the knives he'd been given. For a moment he wondered what the hell he was going to do with a small dagger against a giant, but quickly banished the thought. He'd figure it out when he got there.

The two in leather armor had drawn the giants attention and were dodging and rolling as the creature swung its club. The woman had an arrow strung and let it loose. Delar watched as it hit the giant in the side of the neck, causing it to howl loudly in pain and rage. With a large hand the giant reached up and yanked the arrow out before snapping its head to the woman. Turning, the giant began lumbering rapidly toward her as she nocked and loosed another arrow.

Once the giant was upon her it swung its club high and brought it crashing down to the ground as the woman leaped to the side, landing in a roll. Even as she scrambled to her feet though, the giant had dragged its club across the ground and hit her, knocking the wind out of her and sending her rolling for close to a dozen meters. She pushed herself to her hands and knees as she attempted to regain her breath and the other two with her rushed to put themselves between her and the giant lumbering ever closer.

"Get out of the way, you fools, I can handle myself!" the woman sneered at them.

One of them scoffed, "Not a chance Aela. I couldn't call myself a Companion if I just left my Shield-Sister to die!"

The giant raised its club overhead, but before it could swing downward it let out a scream and dropped the weapon, quickly grabbing at its back and spinning. While it had been distracted, Delar had reached them. He saw his chance a drew the other dagger as well, ignoring the two men who had been the first to go down while they struggled to their feet. He spun both his weapons to a backhand grip and jumped onto the giants back, digging both daggers in and hanging on.

The giants' spinning started to swing him around and the blades began slipping out, tearing through the flesh on the things back. He lost his grip on one of the daggers and was flung off, faling to the ground in a heap as the giant turned any angry glare on him. Ignoring its club the giant stalked forward, reaching out its hand to pick up Delar and crush the human in his hands.

A yell brought him pause and then he bellowed out in pain as his legs gave out, bringing him crashing to the ground. Pulling his sword out of the giants spine, the man walked around the creature to its head, while the other moved to Delar and helped him to his feet. Delar caught sight of the first man bringing his greatsword down on the giants neck.

"You just had to take the kill, didn't you, Vilkas?" Aela asked with mock indignation in her voice. The man simply chuckled in reply.

"Ah, Farkas," Vilkas said, looking to his brother who was walking alongside Delar, who had a slight limp in his step.

"Well met, kinsman!" Aela said to Delar, "That was quite impressive. We appreciate the help."

"Aye," Farkas said, "That giant had been causing trouble for weeks."

Delar nodded in reply as he breathed out a, "Well met."

Aela stepped forward and introduced herself, "I am Aela, of the Companions. These are my Shield-Brothers, Vilkas, Farkas, and Skjor.. As well as my Shield-Sister, Ria." She motioned to each in turn and Delar gave a quick nod to each of them in acknowledgment.

"You have ours thanks for aiding us," Vilkas said.

Delar shrugged, "I was just passing by and saw you fighting. Thought you might need an extra blade." As he spoke, Delar took a few steps toward the giant, and yanked his other dagger from its back before putting it back.

"It's fortunate that it was you who was passing by and not some milk drinker without a spine," Skjor said with a grin.

Delar just shrugged again. "Are you headed to Whiterun, friend?" Ria asked.

Delar gave a nod, "I am. I need to speak to the Jarl."

The Companions said nothing for a moment before Farkas clapped Delar on the shoulder, "Well let's go then. We can show you the way!" Without waiting for a reply, Farkas pushed Delar ahead of him and the whole group started toward Whiterun. "You know," Farkas said, "You'd likely make a fine addition to the Companions. You should consider joining us at Jorvaskr..."

After entering the city, Delar bid farewell to the Companions as they returned to their hall while he began ascending the steps up to Dragons Reach. The Companions had been quite friendly, but Delar had said little on the way to Whiterun. Truthfully he was a bit suspicious of the group. Vilkas and Farkas had been hit hard by that giants' club, but the whole way to Whiterun, they seemed perfectly healthy and unfazed, meanwhile he had a limp just from being flung to the ground.

Entering the keep, Delar saw what he had expected. High walls, ornate decorations, and signs of superfluous wealth all around. He made his way up a set of stairs and past a long hearth set into the middle of the room. Before him he could see the Jarl sitting beneath the skull of a dragon. Standing next to him was what Delar assumed to be the Jarls steward, as well as a Dunmer woman who looked a bit out of place amongst all the Nords. It was this woman however that stepped forward, stopping Delar. Delar took note that her hand had moved to the hilt of her sword as she stepped in front of him.

"I am Irileth, housecarl to the Jarl," she said in a way that made Delar believe it was something she said almost daily. "Now, who are you, and why are you here? Speak!"

Delar narrowed his eyes as Irilieth made the demand but ignored it. "I need to speak to the Jarl. I've just come from Riverwood, and before that I was at Helgen when it was attacked."

"Helgen?" Irileth said, shock evident in her voice, "You were witness to the attack? We received reports of a dragon."

"Yeah," Delar replied, "It was a dragon."

Irileth looked him over for a moment before stepping aside and gesturing for him to step forward, "The Jarl will want to speak to you himself, you may step forward."

Jarl Balgruff was speaking to his steward as Delar approached, drawing the attention of both men. "What is the meaning of?" the steward demanded.

"Now, Proventius," Balgruff said, "No need to get defensive, not in our own keep. Who are you, friend?"

"Delar, and I come bearing a request from Alvor of Riverwood," Delar explained.

"Alvor?" Balgruff asked, "What is it he wants?"

"Soldiers to protect the town," Delar explained, "As of right now, they are ill equipped to deal with it if the dragon returns to the area."

"So the rumors were true then? There was a dragon that attacked Helgen?" Balgruff asked, eager for more information.

"Yes," Delar said, "I saw it myself. Helgen was destroyed. There were very few who made it out. They are in Riverwood."

"I see," Balgruff said as he leaned back in his throne and stroked his beard, thinking about what course of action to take. "Irileth."

"Yes, my Jarl?" she said, stepping forward.

"Have some soldiers sent to Riverwood immediately. Have them bring extra supplies for those who lost their homes." Balgruff ordered.

Proventius stepped in, "My Jarl, I highly recommend against that. If scouts from the Stormcloaks or the Legion see troops mobilizing it could-"

"I'll not leave my people defenseless while a dragon threatens my Hold!" Balgruff said sharply. "See to it Irileth." The Dunmer woman nodded and immediately turned to carry out her orders while the Jarl turned back to Delar. "I thank you for bringing this to my attention. You have done a great thing for me and my people. If you are willing, I believe there is something more you could do for me. Of course, you will be rewarded for doing so, in addition to what I intend to give for bringing me news of Helgen."

Delar felt uneasy as the Jarl spoke. He'd delivered a message and nothing more and the man wanted to pay him? He wasn't opposed to having coin, however he felt uneasy being given what he viewed as handouts. He would gladly take something he believed he earned, but he'd already been thanked for delivering the message and that is all he really expected for it. Nonetheless, he knew he could use the coin, considering he had none. "What do you need?" Dellar asked.

Balgruff stood and said, "Follow me." Balgruff led Delar into a side room that appeared to be a study of sorts where a man in hooded robes was busy pouring over a number of tomes and scrolls. "Farengar," Balgruff said, getting the mans attention, "I believe I have someone here who can help you with your research into dragons." He turned to Delar, "Farengar is my court mage and has a bit of a fascination with dragons. He has been going over all his notes on them ever since we heard the rumors about Helgen." Balgruff looked back to Farengar with a nod, "I'll leave you to explain what you need to Delar."

"Hmm, I suppose you'll do, "Farengar said, the disappointment evident in his tone.

Delar found he was taking an immediate disliking to the man. "What do you need?" he asked, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

Farengar gave an odd smile, "Straight to the point, eh? I like that, leave the details to your betters." Delar scowled at the insult but Farengar didn't seem to notice as he was looking back at his notes, "Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, near Riverwood nd retrieve something called the Dragonstone. It's marked on that map there, you can take it." Delar picked up the map and noted the location and then folded the parchment up and put it away. "Why are you still here?" Farengar said in near outrage, "Get moving, that Dragonstone is waiting!"

Delar growled in his throat, earning a wide eyed look from Farengar. "Patience is a virtue, mage," Delar said, "I suggest you learn some." Without another word Delar turned and stalked away from the self-important mage and left the keep. It seemed he was going back the way he'd came. He looked to the sky as he stepped outside.

_Wonderful... not even midday, _he thought to himself sarcastically. He had a feeling the rest of this day was going to be quite long.


	3. Chapter 3

It took Delar a little over an hour to make it back to the bridge leading to Riverwood. Instead of crossing it however he took a path next to it that wound up the mountain. Once rounding a bend and passing beyond the edge of the small grouping of trees, he found himself ascending into a snow covered landscape. A cold, biting wind blew past him and he immediately regretted not having a cloak to ward off the chill. Crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to retain some body heat, he continued his climb.

After several minutes of walking through what was quickly becoming a snowstorm, Delar spotted an old watchtower ahead. Deciding to pass it by, he continued on, but as he neared the tower he noticed two people exit the tower and start to approach them, one of them wielding a mace. Delar rolled his eyes and sighed, not looking forward to dealing with them.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, friend," the man holding the mace said.

Delar shook his head slightly, "No, I actually know right where I'm headed."

The bandits, because he was sure that's what they were, froze at his words. They'd never encountered anyone who had replied like that before and it left them dumbstruck. Delar had to fight back a smirk when he saw the look on their faces. He was hoping to simply walk by them now, but it wasn't to be. The bandit with the mace let out a angry scream as he rushed forward, lifting his mace over his head.

Delar stopped where he was as his hands dropped to his sides. He looked on as the bandit was bearing down on him, and as soon as the man got close enough and began to swing downward, Delar stepped to the side, dragging one foot as he went so that the bandit ended up tripping over it and go tumbling to the ground. The other bandit started forward with a yell and Delar turned to him holding up his hand with his palm facing the man and his fingers slightly curled. There was a small flicker of orange light that burst forth from his hand, becoming a steady stream of burning fire.

The bandit tried to halt his progress too late and ended up taking the full force of the blast. With a terrified scream he dropped to the ground and began rolling in the snow, trying to put the magical fire out. Delar turned away from him and to the first bandit who was just getting to his feet. Deciding to get it over with before the bandit regain his bearings, Delar charged forward as a purple and black glow appeared in his hand. Casting the spell as he neared the bandit, a bound sword appeared in his hand just in time for the tip to pierce through the bandits' armor and slice his heart in two. Delar pulled the sword out and let the man slump to the ground before turning to the other bandit, still struggling to put out the fire enveloping him.

His boots crunching loudly in the snow, Delar approached the burning bandit and looked down at the screaming man with a frown. He dispelled his sword and held his hand out again, palm facing the man on the ground. Feeling the chill in the air grow more intense around his fingers, Delar released a freezing stream of air, extinguishing the fire. As the bandit laid on the snow covered ground, his clothing smoking slightly, Delar turned and continued up the mountain, leaving the man with nothing but the sound of boots crunching through the snow until it was drowned out by the howl of the wind.

Finally reaching the barrow, Delar opened the ancient iron doors and slipped inside, grateful to be out of the wind. He turned and took a look at the room he'd entered. It was large and full of rubble, but there were obvious signs of habitation in the form of old braziers alight with flame, and a small campfire set up farther back. However there were no people to be seen and if it weren't for the crackling of the fires, the silence in this ancient atrium would have been deafening.

He reached the campfire and took a quick look around. Judging by the number of bowls sitting on the ground there were at least five people here. He was uneasy however because, testing the temperature of the broth in one of them, he found it to be cold. It had been sitting long enough for the heat to leave it, but not long enough for the fire to have burned out. He spotted little else worth noting with the exception of a pile of cloaks draped over a fallen stone column. He approached and picked one out, quickly draping it over his shoulders and fastening it around his neck. Happy to have something to combat the chill in the air, he moved on, descending stone steps and beginning to make his way through a maze of halls.

He stopped in a small room, taking stock of its contents. There were a large number of candles that had been lit, and the light from the flames cast a sinister glow on the floors and wall, illuminating several small pools of dark red. Walking forward and crouching down next to one, Delar reached out and touched it with a finger. His suspicions confirmed that it was indeed blood, he stood and drew one of his daggers, holding it in a backhand grip while a ball of flame formed in the palm of his other hand.

He moved forward as quietly as possible, peeking around corners before turning down them, following a trail of blood deeper into the barrow. Finally reaching another set of stairs, he descended them, crouching down when he saw the figure of someone in the room beyond. Watching quietly as the man approached a lever in the middle of the room while clutching his side, Delar decided that this man was indeed the source of the blood. Why the man was bleeding though, was still a mystery.

Approaching the lever, the man gripped it and pulled it back to open the gate before him. Instead of the gate opening though, there was a loud click and then whoosh. The last thing the man felt was a sting in his neck before everything went dark.

Delar watched as the man was peppered with darts and slumped to the floor in a heap. Once he decided it was safe he continued the rest of the way down the stairs and stumbled at the bottom. Looking down to his feet he found a corpse holding a bloody sword and staring up with lifeless eyes. The body was severely decomposed and the skin was gray and stretched taut over the skeleton. Delar huffed, "So this is a Draugr." Looking away from the recently re-killed creature, Delar entered the room beyond and looked around.

A closed gate was before him, the lever and the body of the man who'd just tried to open the gate were at the center of the room. Above the door were three shapes set into old carvings of faces. To the left were three pillars with shapes on them. Delar looked from the pillars to the faces, immediately realizing the significance. He walked to the pillars and rotated each of them to match up with the faces and then returned to the center of the room and pulled the lever. The gate rose and the way was opened.

He stepped through the gate and hadn't taken three steps when he heard a the sound of metal grating on stone and a loud clang. He spun around and looked in disbelief at the gate, closed once again.

_You've got to be kidding me. Divines, curse it all, there had better be another way out of here!_

Sighing heavily, Delar turned back around and continued deeper into the barrow with a scowl, kicking at the body of another Draugr as he passed it. He entered another room to find more signs of recent activity. There was a knapsack sitting on top of a table with several bottles sitting near it. Nearing them he saw that they were stamina potions. Picking up the edge of the knapsack, Delar looked inside it, pulling out a few small soul gems and a book titled Thief. Deciding the items would be worth taking, he put everything into the knapsack and secured it over his shoulders, tugging the hood of the cloak out from under it once it was settled.

Moving on, Delar found himself entering an area of the ruins that lacked torches, so he grabbed one from the wall before continuing on. There was a strong musty smell as he moved further into the area, and he finally realized what it was when he saw w thick covering of webbing across the doorway before him. Holding the torch to the web, he burned it away, pushing the unburnt strands aside so he could step through. Apparently there was someone else in the room beyond who had seen the light, because as soon as he stepped in a voice shouted, "Look out!"

Delar turned to see a Dunmer wrapped in web, struggling to get out. "How'd you get in there?" Delar asked.

"The spiders! Look out!" the Dunmer replied.

"Relax," Delar said as he moved toward the man, "What's your name?"

Instead of giving a name the trapped man repeated, "The spiders!"

"Yeah, yeah," Delar said waving his hand, "If they show up I'll just squish them-" The sound of something moving above him caused Delar to pause and turn around as he continued speaking, "-Under my...boot?" The large frostbite spider dropped to the ground and raised its front two legs in challenge. Delar groaned, "I'm going to need a bigger boot."

Delar dove to the side as the spider spit poison at him, dropping the torch and shrugging off the knapsack so that he could move more freely. He got to his feet and leaped to the side just in time as the spider jumped and landed where he had been. He spun back toward the spider with his fist raised and punched the oversized arachnid in the side of the head, immediately regretting it as it jarred his wrist. The exoskeletons on the creature was damned tough. He jumped back again as the spider turned and then held up both of his hands and released a stream of flame from each. The spider let out a shriek of pain and fear as it caught fire, stumbling to the side and then charging blindly forward.

Delar jumped to the side once more as the spider charged past and rammed into the far wall. Before it could regain its senses, Delar dashed toward it, summoning his sword and jumping onto the spiders back and driving the ethereal blade into the creatures' head. The spider slumped to the ground and he dispelled the sword as he jumped off the carcass and made his way back to the Dunmer.

"Bless the Divines!" The Dunmer said, "Now get me out of here."

Delar nodded, picking up his knapsack and slinging it back over his shoulders. Then, picking up the torch he began carefully burning away the webbing around the trapped man. "I'm Delar," he said as he worked.

"Arvel," the Dunmer said, "Thank the Divines you came when you did! I would have died for sure, just like the others if you hadn't!"

"Others?" Delar asked.

Arvel nodded toward the wall and Delar turned to see at least five bodies completely bound in webbing. "I watched them all die," Arvel said despondently.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Delar asked.

Arvel looked up as one of his arms was finally freed and began using it to tug at the rest of the webbing binding him, "There's supposed to be an incredibly valuable horde of treasure here. Help me reach it and half is yours!"

Delar looked at the man, his mouth twisted, "I'm not really interested in treasure. I'm just here for something called the Dragonstone."

"Well I don't know what that is," Arvel said, "But if that's all you want you're welcome to it!"

Delar smirked in amusement at the mans apparent cheer at hearing he would be able to keep whatever treasure was found. Finally freeing Arvel from the webbing, he burned away the rest blocking the doorway that the Dunmer had been suspended in while the elf rid himself of the strands of webbing still clinging to him.

"Well, let's go then, shall we?" Delar said. Receiving a nod from Arvel, the two began moving once more. They'd made it about fifty feet before they were set upon by Draugr. Delar found the ancient undead to be rather easy to deal with, that was until he came across an armored one and ended up get his arm sliced by an ancient greatsword.

After putting the menace down and healing his wound, Delar moved with Arvel into a long corridor with detailed carvings on both sides. Arvel ran forward in excitement and began digging through his bag. Delar watched as the Dunmer pulled out a gold claw and turned it to study the 'palm' of it carefully.

"What is that?" Delar asked.

"A key," Arvel said with a wicked grin, pointing to the three symbols on the claw.

Looking from the claw to the door, Delar saw more symbols on it, one set on each of the three concentric circles that made up most of the door. He looked on as Arvel went about turning each of the circles with relative ease until the symbols matched the claw. He then placed the claw against a plate in the center of the door and pushed in and turned it. The door immediately began to rumble, the circles rotating until they finally stopped and the large slab of stone slid into the ground.

"This is it!" Arvel said excitedly as he moved into the cavern beyond.

Delar followed the man over an underground steam and up the steps toward a sealed sarcophagus. While Arvel began searching the area for things to loot, Delar found himself being drawn toward a carved wall behind the sarcophagus, an odd chanting echoing dimly in his head. He frowned as he stopped before it, placing his hand against the cold stone and tracing the markings on it. It was a language and script he had never seen before, and yet...

"Het nok faal vahlok. Deinmaar do dovaahgolz. Ahrk aan fus do unslaad. Rahgol ahrk vulom." The words cam out of his mouth as though someone else was using him to speak.

At hearing the chant like speech, Arvel stopped and turned to look at Delar quizzically. Once he'd stopped speaking, Arvel said the only thing that he could think of, "Pardon?"

The loud crack of a seal breaking interrupted any reply Delar might have made as the lid of the sarcophagus was launched into the air and crashed loudly on the ground. The Draugr within crawled out in full body armor and turned to Arvel who simply stood in shocked horror.

The Draugr squared itself off with the Dunmer and then pulled its' head back as it appeared to draw in breath before... **"****FUS RO DAH!"**

Arvel was thrown back through the air and hit with a sickening thwack on the far wall of the cavern before falling several meters to the ground. The Draugr then turned its attention to Delar who had just saw what happened. "Oh, horker shit," he muttered as he quickly side stepped the Draugrs' blade and put some distance between himself and it. He turned to face it as he summoned a sword and set himself into a defensive stance.

Taking Delar's posture as a sign of defiance, the Draugr mindlessly accepted the challenge and marched forward, blade raised. Once in range the Draugr swung down and Delar parried the blow, stepping back. Another swing, another parry, another step. Delar knew he couldn't keep parrying the things blows. It was undead, so being tired wasn't likely a concept the creature was familiar with. With the things next downswing, Delar sidestepped and spun, bringing his sword around in an arc and striking the Draugr in the back, sending it stumbling forward... one step. Delar looked at the spot his sword had gotten stuck in the Draugrs' armor and then up to the creature.

The lack of lips showing rotted teeth and the unnatural gaze of glowing eyes, combined with the thin and matted strands of hair sticking out from under the things helmet gave the Draugr a horrifying look. One that was only reinforced as the Draugr snarled and spun toward Delar, hitting him in the side of the head and sending him careening off the raised platform and tumbling down the stairs. Loosing grip of his sword, it vanished and Delar quickly tried getting to his feet only to stumble and nearly trip.

"**FUS!"**

Catching the edge of the blast, Delar was spun around and smacked into the wall, managing to remain on his feet, though he felt water slowing his feet. _How in Oblivion am I supposed to kill this damned thing?!_

The sound of another pair of feet splashing in water drew him back to the immediate situation and he began to back up, trying desperately to think of something he could do to even slow the thing. Slow it... Delars's eyes lit up at an idea and he quickly stepped back, finding a rock above the water level to stand on. The Draugr stalked toward him, unfazed until Delar smirked and looked at its feet, submerged in water up to mid-calf. With the Draugr pausing, Delar took his chance, quickly summoning up a frost spell in both hands and blasting the water at the Draugrs' feet with it, immediately freezing the undead menace in place.

In a desperate attempt to attack Delar, the Draugr threw its greatsword. Delar jumped to the side as it passed by and landed on solid ground once more. He looked from the sword to the Draugr as a purple glow appeared in his left hand. "You should have kept that," Delar chided, "It might have helped you." A Bound Bow appeared in Delars hand and he immediately brought it up and pulled the string back, an ethereal arrow appearing as the string went taut. The moment the Draugr let out a snarl of challenge, Delar loosed the arrow, sinking it right into the Draugrs' face.

The Draugr fell back into the water, its legs still frozen in place. Delar dispelled the bow and his shoulder drooped forward as he sighed. "This day can't possibly get worse," he muttered as he turned toward Arvel. The Dunmer wasn't moving, and as he neared he could see why. The look of terrified shock was still on the dead mans face, staring up at nothing. His knees however were pressed against the ground and despite the armor, it was clear that his spine had been snapped in two. Delar crouched down with a sigh and held his hand over the mans head and said a quiet prayer for his soul. He saw the golden claw laying on the ground next to the man and picked it up before standing and turning back to the sarcophagus.

Approaching the old tomb and looking in where the Draugr had been there were only two things present, a small pouch that he picked up and opened. His eyes widened in surprise at the gems in it and he closed it and swung his pack off his shoulder to put it away. Doing so reminded him the pack was there and he mentally chided himself for not taking it off to move more easily. Setting the pack down he turned his gaze to the other item. A large stone tablet with detailed carvings showing what he recognized as a map of Skyrim.

Frowning at it, he set the stone on the floor and began digging through his pack for the map he'd gotten from Farengar. Laying it out he compared the two and was able to determine the general areas on his map that were shown on what he know assumed was the Dragonstone. Looking around for something to mark his map with, he noticed the a piece of chalk laying on the ground next to the pile of rubble that appeared to have been a table at one point. He marked the locations and then stuffed the heavy slab of stone into his knapsack. Pausing as he grabbed the map, he glanced to the wall with the odd writing on it. Making a quick decision he began to meticulously copy the markings onto the back of the map.

Once finished, he put everything in his pack and slung it over his shoulder. He took one last look at the word wall, bewildered by the fact that he apparently knew what the writing said, but had no idea what the words meant. Rereading it again he stopped on the word 'Fus.' Three times now he'd heard that word. First at Helgen, and now twice here. He wondered why the word on its own didn't have as severe of an effect as it did when other words were added. Shaking his head and deciding it would have to remain a mystery for now, he quickly found an exit and made his way out of the barrow.

It was late afternoon by the time he made it back to Whiterun. He made his way back to Dragons Reach, pushing open the oversized door to enter. Taking a deep breath before continuing he slung the pack off and took the stone out before putting the pack back in place. Hefting the stone in both hands, Delar walked up the stairs and made for the room Farengar's study was in. He could see the Jarl standing across the desk from his court-mage who was absorbed in whatever was laying on his desk.

Hearing the footsteps, Balgruff turned to see Delar striding toward them with a slab of stone carried in his hands. "You're back!" the Jarl said cheerfully and then gestured to the stone, "Is this it, then?"

"Yep," Delar said smiling slightly.

The smile quickly vanished as Farengar was suddenly on the same side of the desk as the others and wrenching the stone from Delar's hand, "Finally! Give me that."

Delar scowled as the mage immediately went back to where he was, staring at the stone. "You're welcome," Delar snarled at the mage.

Balgruff chuckled somewhat uneasily and clapped Delar on the shoulder, "Forgive him, he can forget himself in his work at times."

Delar huffed and then nodded, deciding it wasn't worth the trouble of being mad at the egotistical fool. He was about to ask Balgruff if there was somewhere he could get cleaned up at when Irileth came running toward them, "My Jarl! A dragon has been sighted at the Western tower!"

A winded guard was just behind her, slowing at seeing the woman stopped. "Upstairs," Balgruff ordered, not wanting to talk about it in the open. "You come too," he said to Delar. There was a simultaneous groan from both him and the guard as they followed after the Jarl and Irileth.

Muttering under his breath Delar said, "And here I thought this day couldn't get worse..."


	4. Chapter 4

A guard screamed as he was snatched up in the talons of the dragon only to be dropped, his screams cut off as he hit the ground. The other guards continued firing arrows at the creature that they thought was only a myth as it banked around and back toward them.

"**YOL TOOR SHUL!"**

The guards dived to the side as the blast of flame hit the top of the watch tower, heating the air around them to an unbearable temperature. They were still trying to get up when the dragon alighted on the edge of the tower and snapped up a guard in its jaws, shaking the poor manly violently before spitting him out to the ground far below. The remaining guard met the gaze of the dragon as it turned to him and then bolted, running back into the relative safety of the tower, another blast of fire following on his heels.

Delar had left his pack at Dragons Reach and was now jogging alongside Irileth and a group of five more guards, swiftly making their way to the Western watchtower. Delar was mumbling angrily to himself about the whole thing.

_Most experience dealing with dragons, my ass! I ran as the thing slaughtered an entire town, I didn't try to kill it! I swear, Balgruff better be giving me a mountain of gold for this! Talos knows I'm gonna need it for all the health potions..._

"There it is!" a guard shouted as the tower came into view.

"Definitely looks like the dragon's been here," Delar replied sarcastically, getting a glare from Irileth.

"All of you, spread out and search the area," the woman commanded, "Look for any survivors."

The group spread out, quickly going to the bodies they could see laying on the ground. Delar made his way to the destroyed ramp into the tower when a guard suddenly shot out of the entrance with a bow in hand, "Get down! It'll see you!" Delar didn't have time to reply before a roar was heard and the dragon appeared in the sky. The surviving guard crouched low and shouted, "There it is!"

Delar looked up, feeling an odd sense of relief to see that the dragon was not Alduin, but instead a bronze colored one. Summoning a bow, Delar crouched next to the guard on the ramp as the other guards around the tower ran for cover as the dragon swooped down, roaring and spewing fire along the ground as it passed. The moment it had passed by, everyone stood with a bow and aimed at it, loosing a volley of arrows while Irileth shot bolts of electricity.

The dragon roared and pulled away, ascending higher into the sky. As it circled around, everyone ran for a better position, hoping to have a clear shot at it while being out of its sight. Delar mad for a fallen portion of wall and slid into cover next to Irileth. He looked at her, annoyance evident on his face, "All we're doing is pissing it off! How do we kill it?"

"I thought that's what you were here for!" Irileth retorted.

Delar growled in frustration, "And just what makes you think I know how to kill the damn thing? Because I saw one? I didn't fight the cursed thing, I ran from it!"

"You survived and helped others survive!" Irileth snarled, "So either you're the luckiest damn fool who has every walked Nirn! Or, there's more to you than you like to let on!"

Delar glared at the woman, ducking his head down as the dragon flew by overhead, blasting at them with fire. The dragon turned in the air and began to beat its wings as it fell closer to the ground, finally touching down on its feet and using its wings to keep its body up as it began shuffling forward toward a lone guard. Delar sighed and then snarled back at Irileth, "You'd better appreciate this."

With a roar he pounced up from his position, dispelling his bow and drawing both of his daggers. The dragon snapped at the guard it was attacking and caught him in its jaws. It picked the man up and swung him violently back and forth, tearing off one of the mans arms through sheer force before tossing its head back, throwing the guard into the air only to have it come back down into the waiting maw. The dragon snapped its jaws shut, biting the guard clean in half and then spitting the body out. With blood stained fangs, the dragon roared and flapped its wings, rising off the ground as Delar finally reached it.

With a shout Delar jumped up, stabbing his daggers into the dragons leg as it rose, and holding on for dear life as the dragon spun wildly in the air and kicked its legs to dislodge the nuisance. Using its other claw, the dragon grabbed Delar and yanked him off, leaving the daggers stuck in its leg as it tossed him into the air. Delar flailed as he soared through the air, certain he was going to fall to his death, only to hit the ground far earlier than he expected, landing in a heap of twisted limbs.

With a groan he got his hands and knees under him and looked around to find himself on top of the tower. He brought a hand to his head to try and nurse the intense headache he now had, but was forced to ignore it as the beating of large wings was accompanied by a shadow that blocked out the evening sun. Delar rolled to find the dragon alighting on the edge of the tower and staring at him menacingly. It bared its bloodied fangs as it snaked its head toward him and he found himself scooting back to try and distance himself from the creature.

The dragon spread its wings out as if to enforce the idea that it thought of Delar as nothing more than an insect. It was far bigger than he was, and far stronger. As Delar stared up at the dragon though, he felt an odd sense of calm, but had no time to place it. The dragon was about to kill him and yet he _knew_ he could kill the creature.

His thoughts flashed back to that stormy view of Alduin in almost the same position as this dragon, staring down at him and then 'speaking.' And then he saw the barrow again, and the Draugr there that 'spoke.' Sitting on the ground, staring up at a dragon ready to kill him, Delar did the only thing he could think of. He 'spoke' to the creature, **"****FUS!"**

The word tore from his throat like a clap of thunder, jarring his senses for a moment as the visibly compressed air shot straight at the dragon, catching it off guard and pushing it back slightly. It didn't fall from the edge of the tower, but it was off balance and distracted. That was all the incentive Delar needed to scramble to his feet and charge at the dragon, summoning his sword. The dragon noticed Delar and snapped out at him, but Delar was already too close for the dragon to reach him without moving. Delar yelled as he jumped up and thrust his sword into the dragons' soft underbelly, where he thought the heart was.

The dragon roared, thrown further off balance by the force of Delar charging into it. That, combined with the rapid weakening of its body made the dragon fall backwards, flapping its wings in vain. Delar held on to his sword as the dragon went over the edge, cursing himself for a poorly thought out attack. When the dragon finally crashed to the ground, Delar let go of his sword, dispelling it and smacked into the dragons' hide, rolling off of it and falling onto the leathery flap of a wing.

Irileth and the guards, who had only be able to see the dragon until it started to fall ran towards it in disbelief. Two guards immediately moved to go to Delar, but stopped short as the dragons' body started to glow. They watched as the whole of its body began to burn away in an orange and blue fire that swirled into the air and then shot back down to encase Delar, spinning around him as his body absorbed it. When all was said and done, all that remained was a skeleton, awestruck guards, and a man with a very big headache.

When Delar started moving the guards moved to him to help him up, looking at him in reverence. "You," one of them said, "You're Dragonborn!"

"Huh?" Delar said while holding a hand to his head.

"You stole that dragons' soul! You're the Dragonborn!" the guard exclaimed.

Delar groaned, "The dragons' soul? Is that why I feel like I just got hit by a giants' club?"

"Enough nonsense," Irileth said, "We can discuss this all later. Right now we need to return to the Jarl and inform him that the dragon is dead.

One of the guards looked at her, "I wouldn't expect you to understand. You're not a Nord."

"I said enough," she shot back, "Now let's return to the Jarl!"

* * *

Delar didn't think he'd ever felt so uneasy as he did now. He wasn't fond of fanfare and celebration when it wasn't something truly important. The fact that he was the center of attention and topic of discussion certainly didn't help either. Once they had returned from the tower, Balgruff was immediately told of what happened there. He made Delar the Thane of Whiterun on the spot, appointing him a housecarl and giving him an enchanted axe as a badge of office. The Jarl had then called for a celebration that, it seemed, everyone in the city had been invited to.

As they had been preparing a feast at Dragons Reach, the thundering sound of a Shout echoed throughout the hold. Delar was told it was a sign from the Greybeards, a call, summoning the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. Throughout the night, Delar had been subjected to tales and explanations of what it meant to be the Dragonborn, all the way from Akatosh bestowing the gift on mortals, to the last known one, Tiber Septim. He had been asked repeatedly to demonstrate his Thu'um after the guards who had been at the watchtower greatly over exaggerated the affect it had on the dragon. He eventually relented and Shouted at a bookcase, causing it to tip precariously, and books to go flying from the shelves. He nearly groaned when Balgruff thanked him for not using the 'full power' of the Shout.

It was now late into the night, Delar was on his third tankard of mead, never having been a heavy drinker. Around him were people talking animatedly and making wild gestures, while other were passed out, slumped over tables or on the ground next to their chairs. He overheard someone saying what an honor it was to have met the Dragonborn and decided to get some fresh air. He didn't know how many times he'd heard that word today, but it was starting to make him cringe.

By some miracle he made his way out of Dragons Reach without being stopped and quickly made his way down the stairs to the large, dying tree that dominated the center of the town square. Making his way to a bench, Delar sat, draping his arms over the back of the bench and tilting his head back. He gazed at the stars through the bare tree branches and breathed deeply. The chilled air of Skyrim was invigorating and despite his weariness he didn't find he had the urge to sleep.

His thoughts turned to the Shout he had heard earlier. He was sure all of Skyrim must have heard it for the way it shook the ground and made the air vibrate enough to be felt. "Dovahkiin, huh?" he mused. He thought back to the Shout he'd used, memories of it bringing his thoughts to the barrow. Was that why he knew that language he'd never seen? He thought back, and despite having wrote down the symbols there, he could see them in his minds eye, clearly. Only this time, he not only knew the words, but understood their meaning.

Quietly he whispered to himself, "Here lies the guardian, keeper of dragonstone, and a force of unending rage and darkness. Hmm... fus... force." With a sigh he closed his eyes and tried to push the thoughts from his mind. He'd been told he should go see the Greybeards, and if they had answers, that's exactly what he was going to do. For now, however, he simply wanted some peace and quiet. He nearly snorted at the thought of peace and quiet. It was something he longed for, but something that had eluded him for years. As if on cue he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, the telltale clinking of armor plates and weapons hanging at the hip. With a sigh he opened his eyes and looked to the source, approaching from the stairs up to Dragons Reach.

In the night light he could just barely make out that it was a woman wearing steel armor, a shield strapped to her back and sword at her hip. She paused before continuing forward more slowly when she saw Delar turn to look at her. Delar watched her approach, trying to make out her features in the dim light. If he hadn't been in such a contemplative mood at the moment he thought he would have tried flirting with her.

"My Thane...?" she questioned.

Delar sighed, now not only were people calling him 'Thane,' they were now adding 'my' to it. "What do you need?" Delar asked.

"Well, my Thane," she spoke, "I haven't got a chance to introduce myself yet because of the festivities."

"Alright..." Delar said, deciding it would be rude to remain seated. He stood and found his eyes level with the top of her head, his height apparently intimidating her to the point that she took a step back. That, or she just wanted to be able to see all of him, and it was easier a bit farther away. The two stood in silence, looking at each other. The woman's eyes traveling over Delar, and his eyes watching hers as they roamed his body. "I'm Delar," he finally said.

At his words the woman snapped her head back up and met his eyes, realizing he'd been watching her look him over. She felt her cheeks warm and was thankful that the light was dim. She cleared her throat and moved into a more rigid stance. "My name is Lydia, my Thane. Jarl Balgruff appointed me as your house...carl?" He words became a quiet whisper as she spoke, watching Delar begin frowning and narrowing his eyes at her.

"Housecarl?" Delar asked.

Lydia nodded, "Yes, my Thane." She averted her eyes to the ground, glancing back up to Delar over and over, waiting for some sort of change. When the frown remained on his face and he just kept staring at her she began to become nervous and felt blood rush to her cheeks.

When Delar finally spoke, what he said was perhaps the farthest thing from what she expected. His frown disappeared and he looked at her with guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he stated.

"M-my Thane?" Lydia queried, wholly confused.

"You didn't get to choose for yourself," Delar explained, "You were just told you had to do it. I'm sorry."

Lydia blinked in confusion as she struggled to find words, "T-that's-...but it is a great honor to be appointed to such a position!"

"I keep hearing that word," Delar said with a scowl, "Not everything can be an 'honor.' And what's the point in receiving an honor if you aren't allowed to refuse if you wish to?"

Lydia frowned in thought, "But, you didn't refuse the title of Thane."

"No, I didn't," Delar said, "The point is, I could have and nothing would have happened. What would happen if you were to refuse to become my housecarl?" When Lydia didn't answer Delar sighed and quietly said, "I thought so..."

"My Th-" Lydia started.

"Call me Delar."

Lydia shifted her weight nervously, "I'm sorry my Thane, but that would be highly inappropriate."

Delar sighed and brought a hand to his forehead, "Okay, how 'bout this? When we're around other people you can be concerned with propriety and all that stuff. When it's just the two of us, call me Delar."

Lydia thought for a moment before responding, "As you wish... Delar."

Delar smiled at her then, catching her off guard. "Great! Now that that's out of the way, let's go for a walk. I can still hear those fools hollering up in Dragons Reach and it's giving me a headache."

Lydia nodded as Delar began to turn, moving forward so the she was to his side and just a little behind him, "Of course my-...Delar."

Delar smirked, "_Your_ Delar? Getting a bit possessive there already?"

Lydia blanched, a blush covering her entire face as she began stammering an incoherent reply, attempting to apologize for her statement before she suddenly stopped mid rant, realizing they were still walking along and that her Thane was looking at her with a near maniacal grin. He was messing with her and she only now realized it. Her face was red and she tried passing the embarrassment off as anger, "That was cruel!"

Delar threw his head back and laughed at her response before looking back at her. "No," he said, holding his finger up for emphasis, "_That_ was funny."

Lydia bit her lip, keeping her head down as they began descending a staircase. She remained silent, listening to Delar chuckle at her and wondering how he'd gone from apologizing to her for getting her stuck as his housecarl, to making her make a fool of herself. It was only once they reached the bottom of the stairs that sound escaped her lips in the form of a quiet gasp, as a hand grabbed her right shoulder and pulled her toward the left and straight into Delar's side. "I think we're gonna get along fine, Lydia," Delar said before adding, "Assuming you don't kill me in a rage of course."

Lydia couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped her before pulling herself away from Delar's grasp and falling into steps beside and behind him. "So tell me," Delar said, "What exactly is a housecarl? What do you do?"

Lydia replied instantly and in an obviously very practiced manner, "I am sworn to protect you and all you own with my life. I am sworn to carrying your burdens. I am your sword and your shield. I am here to serve you in any way you deem necessary."

Delar snorted, the humor that had been in his voice just moments before no replaced with sarcasm as he spoke, "Sounds like a great gig. You get to give up everything you want out of life to follow someone you don't know for the rest of your days."

Lydia frowned, wondering if these sudden, abrupt changes in mood would be common around her new Thane, or if he was simply drunk. She began to say, "It is a great honor to-"

"You said that already," Delar interrupted, "But just because you've been told something is a great honor, doesn't mean it actually is. Before you try and say that again, do me a favor?"

"Anything, my Thane," Lydia replied, setting aside Delar's request to call him by name. From his tone of voice he sounded very serious, like he was giving an order as a Thane, to his houssecarl.

"Think long and hard about what the difference is between what you've been told, and what you truly believe based on your own experiences," Delar said, "Things like honor, respect, and admiration are earned. They don't come with a title."

Lydia nodded, her mind already churning with thoughts as she processed what Delar had just said. She got the sense that Delar was more than just a man, more than just the Dragonborn. "Do you ever look back on your life to see what brought you to where you are today?" Delar asked. Lydia hesitated for a moment before shaking her head, meeting Delar's eyes. She became very disturbed when his expression changed. His smile was soft, and kindly, and his eyes, while appearing genuinely sympathetic for a reason she wasn't sure of, also held a gleam. It was a gleam that frightened her to her core, and she now found herself desperately wanting to know what it was as well as terrified of what it could be that made it appear so...primal. So powerful. So dark.

_Far, far more than just the Dragonborn..._

* * *

Ulfric Stormcloak paced back in forth in thought, unable to sleep. He kept replying the events in Helgen, over and over in his mind, but try as he might, he couldn't understand what he had seen. It wasn't the dragon, or the death, or destruction. Those were all easily identifiable for what they were. No, it was that man who had been sitting next to him in the cart. That man, who had stood still, defiant and unafraid as he locked eyes with that dragon. One would have to be insane to behave in such a manner, but he had seen insane before and that wasn't what he'd seen.

And then, most disturbingly of all, that man had spoken to the dragon, and despite the raging storm, clap of thunder, and deafening downpour, he had heard those words from so far away. That man had addressed the dragon by name.

_He knew its name..._

* * *

_**A/N**_: And there's chapter 4! You know, I'm really looking forward to writing this, especially if I'm able to keep going to all fun parts I intend to. I'd like to get this out of the way right now though so that you don't stop reading because you think it's like everything else that appears on this site. Delar and Lydia are NOT going to end up in a romantic relationship. They will become very close, yes, but there will be no romance there. I know a lot of people are tired of seeing all the DB/Lyd romances in stories. Not this story. In fact, I've got something planned for the two of them that I think many of you will find to be a new, fresh take on the interactions between these two, as well as the final outcome of their relationship. As far as I know, there are very few stories on here that have done what I'm planning, and I'm quite certain there are none that will have the sort of climax in that mini arc that I plan on having. Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, and I'll see you next time!


	5. Chapter 5

Several years earlier:

"_Running from the past won't solve anything, Delar. You can only run so far before it catches up to you." _the echoing voice said.

Delar huffed and kept his head down, staring at the ground he was sitting on, tracing lines in the dirt. "I think my situation makes things a bit different in that regard."

"_No difference in place can ever change such a thing,"_ the voice chided, _"It will catch up with you."_

"And how am I supposed to know when it's caught up, hmm?" Delar asked. "With every day that passes, it gets blurrier."

"_Have you not kept a journal?" _the voice asked.

Delar gave a small nod, "I have, but... I'm starting think it's a mistake."

"_...You believe this is, perhaps, happening for a reason?" _the voice asked. Delar gave another nod. _"And what reason do you think that is, Delar?"_

Delar remained silent, his conversational companion waiting patiently for a reply. Delar sighed as he brought his hands to his face and held his head, slowly dragging his hands down his cheeks until he let them rest on his knees. "I don't know. Maybe... maybe it has something to do with the dream. Maybe it has something to do with... hmph! This is too confusing! It's too much! I don't understand... why? How?"

"_Such answers can only come with time,"_ the voice said.

"And if I die before that time?" Delar asked bitterly.

"_Then you die,"_ was the immediate reply.

Delar scoffed, "You make it sound like it's no big deal."

"_It isn't,"_ the voice stated.

Delar scowled and shouted, "Maybe not for you! You can't die!"

There was a long silence between the two before the voice finally replied, _"I may not be able to die. But tell me, Delar; if I cannot die, can I ever truly live?"_

Delar looked up with wide eyes, something finally clicking into place. Could that be why...? As realization dawned on him though, he did not feel elated by it. It was yet something more, gained. Yet something more, lost. _"Do not fear death, Delar,"_ the voice said, _"Death is just the beginning of another journey for you."_

"It's not a journey I want to take," Delar muttered.

"_Yet, it is one you must take, Delar,"_ the voice assured, _"All roads eventually converge and become one... even the roads you make yourself."_

Silence ensued after that, lingering for several hours as the sun began to set. Delar used the time to think, to fight back tears, to hold on to what was slowly but surely slipping from his grasp. When all was said and done, would his past even truly matter? Would it make a difference? Part of him wanted to say no, another to say yes, and yet another to say that it didn't matter. It was what it was and whether it ever caught up to him or not, it was up to him to decide what to do with the time between.

With far more surety than he had when he arrived, Delar stood up and faced the statue with a smile. "Thanks, Meridia."

"_You have made your decision then."_ Meridia said, her voice echoing around Delar, more a statement than a question.

He nodded, "Yeah, I've decided!"

* * *

Present day:

"Are you certain you do not want me to carry your pack for you, my Thane?" Lydia asked.

Delar looked over his shoulder, "It's 'Delar' when we're alone, remember? And no, I'm quite fine. It's not overly heavy."

Lydia's mouth twisted into a frown at his words. It was her duty to make his life easier, and he wasn't even letting her do little things. "Are you sure? I am sworn to-"

"'Carry my burdens,' yes, I know. That's the fifth time you've said that in the past three hours," Delar said. "You're not a pack mule, and I don't intend on using you as one. Besides, I don't want a servant..." Delar looked over his shoulder to Lydia and smiled, "I'd much rather have a friend."

Lydia blinked at him, a smile slowly gracing her face. She quickened her pace slightly so that she was able to walk beside Delar, his long strides forcing her to move a bit quicker than him. They had spent a day and half on the road, making their way to the town of Ivarstead. After spending the night at the towns' inn they had set out for High Hrothgar and were currently climbing the path that wound up the mountain.

Struggling against the increasing chill and wind, the two ascended the seven thousand steps. Delar stopped at each of the emblems along the path, reading the words and considering them for a short while before moving on.

Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus; Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land.

Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; The Dragons presided over the crawling masses; Men were weak then, and had no Voice.

The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times; Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices; But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts.

Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man; Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue.

Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world; Proving for all that their Voice too was strong; Although their sacrifices were many-fold.

With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer; Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice; Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World.

The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled; Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation; To understand how Strong Voices could fail.

Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned; The seventeen disputants could not shout Him down; Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World.

For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name; Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar; They blessed and named him Dovahkiin.

The Voice is worship; Follow the Inner path; Speak only in True Need.

The sun began to set on the world as Delar and Lydia finally reached the doors of High Hrothgar. Giving each other a silent look, they pushed open the doors and entered the temple, warmth chasing away the chill that had followed them. Shaking the snow from their bodies, the two stepped further into the temple, almost immediately spotting a man kneeling on the ground in meditation. The man looked up at them as they approached, and then stood. "Lok bo, thu'um tu'um. Greetings, Dovahkiin..."

* * *

"That's it?" Delar asked. "You teach me a few words and send me on my way to fetch some horn as proof that I am what you've already said I am?"

Arngeir's face wrinkled further as he smiled and replied, "The task is a rite of passage, so that we may formally recognize you as Dragonborn, and a member of our order."

Delar scowled, not liking the patronizing tone the Greybeard was using, "I didn't come here to be formally recognized for what I am, or to join your order. _You_ summoned me. I came because of that and because I was told you could help me understand all this."

"These tasks we have set for you will help you to understand," Arngeir explained.

Delar sighed and rubbed his forehead, "And you can't teach me any more Shouts to help with all this?"

Arngeir shook his head, "No. It is in learning such things on your own that a true understanding of the Way can be found."

Delar groaned and muttered, "fine," before turning away. Grabbing Lydia the two began to leave the temple and descend the mountain. Delar muttered to himself about Arngeir's last words, "I'm not interested in your 'Way,' I'm interested in knowing what I'm supposed to be doing with all this."

"My Thane?" Lydia asked, worry evident in her voice as she heard parts of what Delar was muttering.

Delar sighed, "It's nothing, Lydia. I simply don't have much patience for arrogant old men who think such destructive power exists for the sole purpose of praising the gods."

Lydia nodded, not really sure how to reply. Delar had been quite high spirited on the way up the mountain, but it was apparent that his conversations with Arngeir, after having been taught more words of power, had been frustrating. Finally she worked up the nerve to ask, "So where are we going?"

"To find a horn, apparently," Delar droned, obviously not very enthused by the idea. "It's somewhere in a place called Ustengrav. Know the place?"

"I have heard of it," Lydia replied, "I believe I can lead us there."

"Glad to hear it," Delar said, slightly more enthusiastic that it at least wouldn't be difficult to find.

They had reached close to the halfway point down the mountain when Delar suddenly stopped, a frown creasing his face. Lydia stopped and looked at him, disturbed by his countenance. She swore she could almost see a fire behind his eyes as he was obviously lost in thought. Tentatively she called to him, "Delar?"

He glanced at her, still frowning and then turned and continued walking making his way to one of the emblems they had passed on their ascent. Delar stopped and read it once more, his frown still in place and his eyes narrowed.

"My Thane?" Lydia asked as she cautiously approached.

She nearly jumped out of her skin at his sudden reply. "He said there were five of them. The four of them in the temple, and their grandmaster at the top of the mountain. Arngeir, Wulfgar, Borri, Einarth... and Paarthurnax."

Lydia frowned, not knowing what he was talking about until she stepped up next to him and read the emblem he was staring at.

Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man; Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue.

Lydia looked at Delar, "What does it mean?"

Delar worked his jaw from side to side as he thought. "'Paarthurnax, who pitied Man.' Pitied Man... because he isn't Man."

Realization dawned on Lydia as she glanced from Delar to the peak of the mountain and back. "You mean...?"

Delar scowled, "Dovah.. Paarthurnax is a dragon. Paar-thur-nax..." Delar closed his eyes, his face contorting into a scowl as he thought. Lydia, worried about what may be going on was about to speak when his eyes snapped open. "Ambition. Overlord. Cruelty. That's what his name means."

Lydia looked from Delar to the emblem and then deadpanned, "Sounds charming."

Delar snorted and shook his head, finally smiling once more. "Very," he said as he turned and started down the mountain again. "Let's go find this accursed horn and get back. Then we can have a nice little chat with four decrepit old men who think they're clever."

"And get some answers?" Lydia asked, rhetorically.

Delar nodded with a smirk, "And get some answers."

* * *

"What do you have for me, Legate?" Tullius asked as he leaned over a table with a map spread out on it.

Giving a salute, Legate Rikke responded, "Reports have come in from all of the Holds, General. They are all reporting sighting dragons."

Tullius scoffed, "That's just _great. _As if the Stormcloaks weren't enough, now we've got big fire breathing lizards roaming the skies looking for their next snack." He turned his head to look at the elf standing nearby garbed in dark robes, "I don't suppose the Thalmor know anything about this new development?"

The Thalmor agent crossed his arms and scowled, "Are you attempting to imply that _we_ are somehow involved in these dragons appearing?"

Tullius let out a heavy sigh, biting his tongue so that he didn't blurt out what he really thought. "No," he explained, "I'm attempting to ask that if you know anything, it would be greatly appreciated if you shared that information with us. We can't afford to be running around blind with this sort of thing."

"Hmph!" the agent huffed, "I assure you, we know nothing of it."

Tullius let out another quiet groan. Nothing was going right lately. They'd lost a lot of men capturing Ulfric Stormcloak, only to have him get away. And though he hadn't spoken of it to anyone, he was very aware that when that dragon first attacked Helgen, there didn't appear to be a single Thalmor in sight. He would have thought that they would want to see the man they considered such a big threat executed. Instead, they were absent, and then that dragon had attacked.

"General, if I may?" Rikke said, "There is something else."

"And what would that be?" Tullius asked, not really wanting to hear any more bad news.

"That loud clap of thunder the other day... We've received news from Whiterun," Rikke explained, "It wasn't thunder. It was a summons by the Greybeards."

Tullius looked at his Legate with an eyebrow raised, "A who-beard?"

"The Greybeards, sir," Rikke said, bristling, "They are a monastic order that lives in seclusion on top of the Throat of the World. They are masters of the Voice. That thunder was actually a Shout from them."

"A Shout, you say?" the Thalmor agent said, "You mean like what Ulfric Stormcloak did to kill the High King?"

"Yes," Rikke nodded, "They Shouted the word 'Dovahkiin.' It means Dragonborn."

"Hmm," Tullius said, standing up straight and facing Rikke. The tone of voice she had adopted was one he knew. This was something very serious in her eyes, and if that was the case then he knew it should not be ignored. "What's Dragonborn, Legate?"

"It is an old legend we have here in Skyrim, General," Rikke said, "It speaks of a hero, a mortal born with the soul and blood of a dragon who would appear when the World Eater returned."

The Thalmor agent sneered, "If this is more of that Talos-"

"It has nothing to do with Talos!" Rikke yelled at the agent furiously. Realizing her mistake she quickly calmed down and explained herself, "This legend is far older than even that. Alduin, the World Eater, the first son of Akatosh. He was defeated thousands of years ago, but there was a prophecy that said he would return..."

"You think he has?" Tullius asked quietly, very aware of the storm of emotions swirling behind Rikke's eyes.

Rikke nodded, "Yes General. I'm certain that's what this is. The prophecy says- it says '_And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, That when brothers wage war come unfurled! Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, With a hunger to swallow the world!_'"

"Well isn't that poetic," the Thalmor sneered.

"It is part of a song," Rikke said, refusing to look at the elf.

Tullius rubbed his chin in thought and frowned, "'Black wings certainly fits what attacked Helgen. And this 'when brothers wage war' bit seems quite fitting for the current situation here in Skyrim. But how does this all relate back to these Greybeards, Shouting?"

"It is a sign, General," Legate said, her eyes suddenly bright, "The Dragonborn has come!"


End file.
